
Book._AiAJS 



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.■^. :y 



CrOPMRIOHT JDEPOSflT. 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

BY 

DENIS A. McCarthy 

f ■ 

Author of ^^ Voices from Erin *' 
SECOND EDITION REVISED AND ENLARGED 



BOSTON 

LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 

1909 






Copyright, igoy, igog. 
By Denis A. McCarthy. 

Published September, 1909 



THE UNIVBRSITV PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A. 



n.A 24G854 
SEP 21 '1909 



TO ONE 



WHO "NEVER DOUBTED CLOUDS 
WOULD BREAK" 



PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION 

In answer to a popular demand this second edition 
of the author's first book of verses, ''A Round of 
Rimes," is now presented. The present volume con- 
tains all the poems which won for the first edition the 
praise of critics everywhere. A few poems, however, 
of a merely personal or topical interest, the author has 
eliminated, and has added a number, since written: 



A Song for The Flag, 

Age in Exile, 

What is Success? 

To an Irish Thrush, 

A Song of Beauty, 

The Fortune Fairy, 

The Veterans, 

Spring Song, 

The Fields o' Ballyclare, 

Queens, 



The May Procession, 

The Singer, 

On St. Patrick's Day, 

A Song for the Child- 
Workers, 

Give Them a Place to 
Play, 

In the Heart of the Hills, 

The Caged Songster, 

Rosa Mystica. 



The author's acknowledgments are due to the 
** Youth's Companion," "The Rosary Magazine," 

[vii] 



PREFACE 

"The Christian Endeavor World," ''The Ave Maria," 
"The Journal of Education," and "The New York 
Sun," for permission to use in this volume poems 
which were contributed originally by him to those 
publications. 

Denis A. McCarthy. 

August, 1909. 



[ viii] 



CONTENTS 

Fagb 

A Song for the Flag i 

Age in Exile 4 

What is Success? 6 

To AN Irish Thrush 8 

A Song of Beauty . 10 

The Fortune Fairy 12 

The Veterans 15 

Spring Song 17 

The Fields o' Ballyclare ig 

Queens 21 

The May Procession 22 

The Singer 24 

On St. Patrick's Day 25 

A Song for the Child- Workers 27 

Give Them a Place to Play 29 

In the Heart of the Hills 31 

The Caged Songster 32 

Rosa Mystica 34 

The Poet 35 

Where Mother Sleeps 37 

When All the World Goes Wrong 38 

My Song 40 

"A Dreamer Lives Forever" 42 

When Summer Comes Again 43 

[ix] 



CONTENTS 

Page 

Ah, Sweet is Tipperary 45 

Remorse 47 

The Poet's Heart 48 

A Song of Liberty 49 

First Love 51 

The Sorrow of Love 52 

An Old Woman's Thought 53 

"In the Tumult of the City" 55 

Go Where You Will 57 

A Question 58 

A Shamrock from the Suir 59 

Memories of Ireland 61 

Dreams 63 

Poor Love must Wait 64 

To One in Bohemia 65 

Land of Youth! 66 

Across the Seas in Erin 68 

Rose of My Heart 70 

The Memory of Emmet 71 

A Prairie Reminiscence 74 

In Summer 76 

A Picture 77 

For Love's Sweet Sake 78 

1 Saw 80 

Voices from Erin 81 

Sweetheart 82 

"The Heart of Having is Sad" 83 

Heroes 84 

Ireland 85 

When Love Lay Dead 86 

[X] 



CONTENTS 

Page 

The Midnight Mass By 

"Come Unto Me" 90 

Christmas-Time in Ireland 92 

The Song I Would Sing 94 

Waiting 96 

After Summer 98 

Do We Forget? 99 

Love and Reason 100 

An Exile's Longing loi 

Whene'er I Think of Thee 103 

"Bonny Mary of Argyle" 105 

I Think of Thee 107 

A Buried Heart 108 

The Autumn Rain no 

Come, Cheer Up! 112 



[xi] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



A Song for the Flag 

ILTERE is my love to you, flag of the free, and flag 

of the tried and true ; 
Here is my love to your streaming stripes and your 

stars in a field of blue; 
Here is my love to your silken folds wherever they 

wave on high, 
For you are the flag of a land for which 't were sweet 

for a man to die. 

Green though the banner my fathers bore in the days 

of their ancient wars. 
Men of my race full many have died for the banner of 

stripes and stars. 
Bearing the green my fathers battled and bled in the 

olden fray; 
But you, O beautiful flag of the free, are the flag of our 

hearts to-day. 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

So with the myriad races of men who, leaving the past 

behind, 
Give to the land of their manhood's choice allegiance 

of heart and mind, 
Laboring ever, with hand or brain, the nation they 

help to build, 
For you, O beautiful flag, are to them the sign of a 

hope fulfilled. 

Native or foreign, we're all as one when cometh the 

day of strife. 
What is the dearest gift we can give for the flag but a 

human life? 
Native or foreign are all the same when the heart's 

blood reddens the earth, 
And, native or foreign, 't is love like this is the ultimate 

test of our worth. 

Native or immigrant, here is the task to which we 

must summon our powers : 
Ever unsullied to keep the flag in peace as in war's 

wild hours. 
Selfishness, narrowness, graft, and greed and the evil 

that hates the light, — 
All these are foes of the flag to-day ; all these we must 

face and fight. 

1^1 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

Symbol of hope to me and to mine and to all who aspire 

to be free, 
Ever your golden stars may shine from the east to 

the western sea; 
Ever your golden stars may shine, and ever your 

stripes may gleam, 
To lead us on from the deeds we do to the greater 

deeds that we dream. 

Here is our love to you, flag of the free, and flag of the 

tried and true; 
Here is our love to your streaming stripes and your 

stars in a field of blue; 
Native or foreign, we're children all of the land over 

which you fly. 
And, native or foreign, we love the land for which it 

were sweet to die. 



l3] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



Age in Exile 

\^7EARY of the miles and miles of crowded street 

and square, 
Weary of the towering walls that stint the light and air, 
Weary of the clanging bells — ay, moidhered with the 

noise — 
Weary of the crabbit look of little girls and boys — 
How I miss the mountainside, and how I miss the 

glins ! 
How I miss the singing and the sighing of the win's ! 
How I miss the silence in the dark that used to fall — 
Yet it is the neighbors that I miss the most of all ! 

Faces by the thousand, it is here a man may pass — 
Never such a sight at home, at market or at Mass ! 
Faces like the tides that in the river ebb and flow. 
Yet, among them all, there 's not a face a man may 

know. 
Ah, I 'm often wishing now for just a sight of one 
Face that was familiar in the pleasant time that 's gone. 
How the sight would hearten me when life begins to 

pall — 
For it is the neighbors that I miss the most of all ! 

[4] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

Ay, my boys are good as gold since first they brought 

me out — 
Not a blessed thing to do but smoke and walk about. 
Eating of the very best and wearing decent clothes — 
Sure 't is I *m the happy man, God in heaven knows. 
Yet I can't deny but that I do be missing still 
Places I was used to once in meadow, vale and hill ; 
Places — ay, and faces, too, and voices I recall — 
For it is the neighbors that I miss the most of all ! 



Is] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



What is Success? 

\X7HAT is success? To gain a share of gold? 

To have one's wealth in envious accents told ? 
To see one's picture flaunted in the press ? 
Ah, there be those who label this success. 

What is success? To win a little fame? 
To hear a fickle world applaud your name? 
To be accounted as a genius? Yes, 
And there be those who label this success. 

But have we not another standard still 
To judge a man of character and will? 
Are gold and fame the only measures tried? 
In all the world is there no test beside? 

Ah, yes. The man who meets, with courage grim, 
The daily duties that devolve on him. 
The petty, mean, heart-breaking cares that tire 
The patient soul that never may aspire — 

[6] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

Howe'er so cramped the field wherein he works, 
He has not failed — the man who never shirks, 
The man who toils for years without a break, 
And treads the path of pain for others' sake. 

There are a myriad of such men to-day, 
Who, all unnoted, walk the dolorous way — 
Upon their shoulders still the cross may press. 
But who will say they have not won success? 



I7] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



O 



To an Irish Thrush 

|H, little Irish thrush, 
Hush, oh, hush ! 
I hear you singing in the morning bright, 
At glowing noon I hear you, and at night; 
And, oh, your song, to others gay and glad, 
To me is sweet, so sweet ! but, ah, so sad ! 
So hush, and do not sing ! 
Your minstrelsies such poignant mem'ries brin;. 
That tears will flow 
At all the dreams revived of long ago ! 

Oh, little Irish thrush, 

Hush, oh, hush ! 
You are an exile, like myself, and so 
I can detect an undertone of woe 
In all your singing, though your master here, 
Dull with content, it does not pierce his ear. 
So hush, and sing no more. 
My heart is full, my eyes are running o'er 
Because your song 

Recalls old days I deemed were buried long. 

[8] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

Oh, little Irish thrush, 

Hush, oh, hush ! 
Your jovial master thinks that you are gay, 
He hears with pride your singing all the day, 
He thinks you are content, and that you ne'er 
Long for the Irish woods, the Irish air — 
So hush, and do not sing. 
Let not for souls like his your music ring. 
And for my sake. 
Hush, little exile, or my heart will break I 



[9] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



A Song of Beauty 

/^H, sing me a song of beauty ! I 'm tired of the 

^^^ stressful song, 

I 'm weary of all the preaching, the arguing right and 

wrong, 
I 'm fain to forget the adder that under the leaf lies 

curled, 
And dream of the light and beauty that gladdens the 

gray old world ! 

Oh, sing of the emerald meadows that smile all day 

in the sun ! 
The ripple and gleam of the rivers that on through the 

meadows run ! 
Oh, sing of the sighing branches of trees in the leafy 

woods, 
And the balm for the heart that's hidden afar in the 

solitudes ! 

The birds — let them sing in your singing and flash 

through the lines you write. 
The lark with his lilt in the morning, the nightingale 

charming the night, 

[10] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

The butterfly over the flowers that hovers on painted 

wing — 
All these, let them brighten and lighten the beautiful 

song you sing ! 

And let there be faces of lovers, and let there be eyes 

that glow, 
And let there be tears of gladness instead of the tears 

of woe. 
And let there be clinging kisses of lips for a time that 

part. 
But never a tristful shadow to darken a trustful heart ! 

Ay, sing me a song of beauty — away with the songs 

of strife ! 
Away with the spectre of sorrow that saddens the most 

of life ! 
Though under the leaf the adder of death and of doom 

lies curled. 
Oh, sing, for a space, of the beauty that gladdens the 

gray old world ! 



I") 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



The Fortune Fairy 

TF you walk in Tipperary 
By a certain castle gray, 
Like as not you'll meet a fairy 
Somewhere there along the way. 



He 's a crabbed little fellow 
In a quaint, old-fashioned suit, 

Scarlet coat and waistcoat yellow, 
And a three-cocked hat to boot. 

All his fingers to his knuckles 

Crusted thick with glitt'ring rings, 

And a pair of silver buckles 
On his shoes, like any king's ! 

Well, perhaps he'll be reclining, 
"Fair and aisy" in the sun, 

Feeling drowsy after dining 
And not much disposed to run. 

I 12] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

Faith, 't is then's your chance to nab him, 

Steal up softly in the shade, 
Steal up cautiously and grab him, 

And your fortune 's surely made ! 

Yes, your fortune 's made forever, 

If you look him in the eyes. 
Vowing he'll escape you never 

Till he tells you where it lies — 

Where it lies, the hidden treasure, 
Good gold pieces fair and round, 

Minted in no stinted measure 
By the fairies underground ! 

He '11 be turning, he'll be twisting. 

He'll be peevish as a cat. 
He '11 deny the gold's existing. 

He '11 be saying this and that. 

He '11 be mocking, he '11 be crying. 
He '11 be grave and he '11 be gay — 

Every trick will he be trying 
Just to make you look away ! 

I 13 I 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

But whatever thing he's saying, 
And whatever trick he tries, 

And whatever game he 's playing — 
Look him straight between the eyes ! 

Ay, be wary and be steady. 

For 't is oft the rogue has laughed 

At the mortals fooled already 
By his cunning and his craft. 

Ay, be steady and be wary, 

For the quiver of a lash 
Will release the Fortune Fairy, 

And he '11 vanish like a flash ! 



[14] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



The Veterans 

"C^VERY year they're marching slower, 
■^^ Every year they're stooping lower, 
Every year the lilting music stirs the hearts of older 
men; 
Every year the flags above them 
Seem to bend and bless and love them 
As if grieving for the future when they '11 never march 
again ! 

Every year that day draws nearer — 
Every year this truth is clearer 
That the men who saved the nation from the severing 
Southern sword 
Soon must pass away forever 
From the scene of their endeavor, 
Soon must answer to the roll call of the angel of the 
Lord. 

Every year with dwindling number, 
Loyal still to those that slumber, 
Forth they march to where already many have found 
peace at last, 

[15 1 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

And they place the fairest blossoms 
O'er the silent, mould'ring bosoms 
Of the valiant friends and comrades of the battles 
of the past. 

Every year grow dimmer, duller, 
Tattered flag and faded color; 
Every year the hands that bear them find a harder 
task to do, 
And the eyes that only brightened 
When the blaze of battle lightened. 
Like the tattered flags they follow are grown dim and 
faded too. 

Every year we see them massing, 
Every year we watch them passing, 

Scarcely pausing in our hurry after pleasure, after gain, 
But the battle flags above them 
Seem to bend and bless and love them, 

And through all the lilting music sounds an undertone 
of pain ! 



[i6] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



Spring Song 

'1X7INTER days are dreary, 

Winter nights are long, — 
Cometh March, and robin breaks 

The silence with a song. 
Cometh April, shine and show'r 

Freely forth to fling, 
Breaking beauty's slumber with 

The tender touch of Spring. 

Winter days so dreary ! 

Winter nights so long ! 
Still may brood about the soul 

In spite of robin's song; 
April from the world may bid 

Wintry winds depart. 
Still its magic may not move 

The winter of the heart. 

Oh, ye folk so dreary, 
Brooding over wrong ! — 

Cast away your sadness when 
You hear the robin's song. 

[17] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

Let the season to your souls 
Mirth and music bring, 

Let your hearts be radiant with 
The sunshine of the Spring ! 



[i8] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



The Fields o' Ballyclare 

T 'VE known the Spring in England 

And, oh, 't is pleasant there 
When all the buds are breaking 

And all the land is fair ! 
But all the time the heart of me, 
The better, sweeter part of me, 
Was sobbin* for the robin 
In tke fields o* Ballyclare ! 

I 've known the Spring in England — 
And, oh, 't is England's fair ! 

With Springtime in her beauty, 
A queen beyond compare ! 

But all the while the soul of me. 

Beyond the poor control of me, 
Was sighin' to be flyin' 
To the fields o' Ballyclare ! 

I 've known the Spring in England — 

And now I know it here; 
This many a month IVe longed for 

The openin' of the year. 

I191 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

But, ah, the Irish mind of me 
(I hope 't is not unkind of me) 
Is turnin' back with yearnin' 
To the fields o' Ballyclarel 



120] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



Queens 

JUST like a queen, sure, she carries the head of 
her — 
Ay, and her hair is a crown of bright gold ! 
Just like a queen's is the pose and the tread of her, 

Just like a queen in a story of old. 
Queen ? — there 's not one in the world to compare 

with her. 
Never a queen beauty's sceptre could bear with her. 
Never a queen beauty's diadem wear with her, 
She is so stately, so proud — and so cold ! 

Faith, she may freeze whom she please with her 
coldness, then, 

I 'm for a maid of a mellower mien. 
One who won't sneer at or jeer at my boldness, when 

I '11 be confessing how foolish I 've been. 
She 's not a queen — no, but she 's got a way with her. 
She has the mildness and sweetness of May with her, 
Faith, 't is myself '11 be tripping away with her — 

Sure, 't is a wife a man wants, not a queen ! 

[21] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



The May Procession 

TXTHAT is clearer, what is dearer, than the chil- 
dren's voices singing, 
As they come with banners waving, as they come 
with garlands gay, 
Where the waking buds are breaking and the tender 
grass is springing, 
In Our Lady's month of beauty, in Our Lady's 
month of May ! 

What is purer or demurer than the fresh young flower- 
like faces 
(Ah, no flowers in all the meadows are so gracious 
or so sweet!), 
As advancing, softly glancing, through the fragrant 
woodland places. 
They approach the shrine of Mary, there to kneel 
at Mary's feet ! 

What is fairer, what is rarer, than Our Lady's May 
procession ! 
What is nearer to a foretaste of a more than earthly 
bliss ! 

[22] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

Ah, no pleasure, — ah, no treasure, of our later life's 
possession 
Can compare with all the sweetness and the inno- 
cence of this ! 



[23 1 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



The Singer 

TF song is born within your heart — 

Then, like the lark on soaring wing, 
Untouched by rules and schools of art, 

In sooth you can not help but sing. 
Behold the bird, untrained, untaught, 

What music from his throat is flung — 
E'en so, the song by you unsought 

Will fall in sweetness from your tongue. 

If song within your breast is bom, 

Not all the strife of street or mart, 
Nor cold neglect nor smile of scorn 

Can drive its magic from your heart. 
Though years that come and years that go 

Their burdens to your soul may bring, 
Through all the work, through all the woe. 

The singer can not help but sing ! 



[24 I 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



On St. Patrick's Day 

\ MERICA, America, O noblest land and best ! 
To-day thine eyes behold a glimpse of green on 

many a breast; 
And in thine ear to-day there sounds a weird and 

witching strain, 
A lilt of mingled joy and grief, of merriment and pain. 
For this is Erin's day of days, and many a son of thine 
First saw the light of earthly life in Erin's valleys 

shine ; 
And so the Irish color gleams, the Irish poet sings. 
And o'er the noises of the street the Irish music rings ! 

America, America, thou land of dreams come true ! 
We love thee none the less because we love old Ireland 

too. 
These sprigs of green we wear to-day no treason 

symbolize — 
They only show how tenderly old memories we prize ; 
They show what loyalty to thee and to thy righteous 

cause 
Can fill the hearts that hungered long beneath a 

tyrant's laws; 

[25] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

They only show, these sprigs of green that 'round thy 

flag we twine, 
The depth and fervor of the love we offer thee as 

thine. 

America, America, we Ve given thee our toil. 

We 've helped to rear thy roaring marts and till thy 

teeming soil; 
We 've spiked the gleaming bonds of steel that bind 

the East and West, 
We 've digged the ore from out the mines that pierce 

thy mountains' breast. 
We 've thought for thee, we 've wrought for thee — 

we 've fought for thee as well ; 
We 've helped to bear thy banner through the battle's 

blazing hell — 
We love thee as our peerless queen, O gracious land 

and glad; 
But ah, the dear old mother land so lowly and so sad ! 



[26] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



A Song for the Child- Workers 

Ah, the little hands too skilful, 

And the child-mind choked with weeds ! 

John Boyle O'Reilly. 

OHALL we cheat them of their childhood? Shall 
we rob them of their right? 
Shall we bend their shrinking shoulders 'neath the 
load? 
Shall we stunt their slender bodies? Shall we stint 
their souls of light? 
Shall we deal with them by Greed's accursed code? 
Ah, my brothers, from your ledgers for a moment 
turn away ! 
Ah, my sisters, leave your follies and your toys — 
And give ear to one whose song is for humanity to-day. 
For the bodies and the souls of girls and boys ! 

Dearly do we pay for progress, dearly are our profits 
priced, 
If we have to rob the school to run the mill, 
And our creed 's the creed of Mammon, not the gentle 
creed of Christ, 
If the little ones He loved must suffer still ! 

[27 1 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

Let us cease our foolish babble of the rolling tide of 
trade, 
Let us prate no more of traffic and its noise, 
If the wheels of Commerce rattle o'er a roadway that 
is made 
Of the bodies and the souls of girls and boys ! 

Shall we cheat them of their childhood ? Shall we rob 
them of their right? 
Shall we bind them to the chariot of Gain ? * 
Shall the childish brain be blunted, shall the little 
face grow white 
In the crowded hives of Industry — and Pain ? 
Ah, my brothers ! Ah, my sisters, you had better turn 
away 
From your ledgers and your dividends and toys, 
For a menace to the future is the thrift that thrives 
to-day 
On the bodies and the souls of girls and boys ! 



[28] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



Give Them a Place to Play 

pLENTY of room for dives and dens (glitter and 

glare and sin!), 
Plenty of room for prison pens (gather the criminals 

in!), 
Plenty of room for jails and courts (willing enough to 

pay!), 
But never a place for the lads to race; no, never a 

place to play ! 

Plenty of room for shops and stores (Mammon must 

have the best !), 
Plenty of room for the running sores that rot in the 

city's breast ! 
Plenty of room for the lures that lead the hearts of our 

youth astray, 
But never a cent on a playground spent; no, never a 

place to play ! 

Plenty of room for schools and halls, plenty of room 

for art; 
Plenty of room for teas and balls, platform, stage, and 

mart. 

[29] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

Proud is the city — she finds a place for many a fad 

to-day, 
But she 's more than blind if she fails to find a place 

for the boys to play ! 

Give them a chance for innocent sport, give them a 
chance for fun — 

Better a playground plot than a court and a jail when 
the harm is done ! 

Give them a chance — if you stint them now, to- 
morrow you '11 have to pay 

A larger bill for a darker ill, so give them a place to 
play I 



130] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



In the Heart of the Hills 

/^H, fain would I hide in the heart of the hills 
^^^ Away from the roar and the rattle of trade ! 
Oh, fain would I rest where the rivulet spills 

Its silvery wave in a fairy cascade ! 
Where apples are ripe and where maples are red, 
And gossamer webs of the spider are spread, 
I 'm fain to recline with the sward for a bed, 
In the heart of the hills ! 

Oh, fain would I fly to the heart of the hills 

Where proudly the flags of the fall are unfurled ! 
Oh, fain would I dwell 'mid the splendor that fills 

The landscape afar to the rim of the world ! 
For now when the heat of the summer is fled. 
When apples are ripe and when maples are red, 
There 's balm for the bosom, there 's rest for the head, 
In the heart of the hills ! 



1 31] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



The Caged Songster 

"T^EEP in the city's heart, 

^^^ Pulsing with toil and traffic — 

Why should I stop and start? 

Something — a song seraphic — 
Tones of a silvery sweetness, 

Tones like a golden bell, 
Rich in their round completeness, 

Full on mine ear they fell ! 

Only a bird's song, only 
The song of a skylark lonely, 
Far from the meadow and croft, 
Caged in a cobbler's loft. 

Sing, little lark, O sing ! 

E'en though your heart be breaking, 
Forth from your bosom fling 

Music of God's own making ! 
Cruel the hand that sought you 

Deep in the meadow's breast. 
Cruel the hand that brought you 

Here from your peaceful nest I 

1 32] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

Yet while your voice remaineth, 
Yet while your heart retaineth 
Even one dream of Spring, 
Sing, little lark, O sing ! 

Deep in the city's heart 

Pulsing with toil and traffic, 
Far from the fields apart 

Many a soul seraphic. 
Many a poet sadly 

Pent in the busy throng, 
Sings till the people gladly 

Pause and applaud his song. 

Ah, 't is a bird's song only — 
That of a skylark lonely. 
Far from the meadow and croft, 
Caged in a cobbler's loft ! 



t33l 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



Rosa Mystica 

/^ MYSTIC Rose, in God's fair garden growing, 
^^^ O Mystic Rose, in Heaven's high courtyard 

blowing — 
Make sweet, make sweet the pathway I am going, 

O Mystic Rose ! 
The darkling, deathward way that I am going, 

O Mystic Rose ! 

O Rose, more white than snow-wreath in December ! 
O Rose, more red than sunset's dying ember. 
My sins forget, my penitence remember, 

O Mystic Rose ! 
Though all should fail, I pray that thou remember, 

O Mystic Rose ! 

O Mystic Rose, the moments fly with fleetness; 
To judgment I, with all my incompleteness — 
But thou, make intercession by thy sweetness, 

O Mystic Rose ! 
Be near to soothe and save me by thy sweetness, 

O Mystic Rose! 

[34] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



The Poet 

T^HE poet sees the tragedy that lies 
"'' Concealed within the heart from other eyes. 

Behind the mask, behind the surface smile 
He sees the gnawing canker-grief the while. 

Beneath the word he sees the deeper thought, 
And, deeper still, the soul with sorrow fraught. 

All things reveal themselves unto his ken. 
His chart is human life; his books are men. 

And this the secret is of all his art: 
He sees life wholly, others but in part. 

A godlike gift is this the gods bestow 
To see the truth, to feel it and to know. 

And thus because he pierces the pretence 
Of shallow smiles and words disguising sense, 

The poet may not follow others' lead 

And lightly write what some may lightly read. 

[35 1 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

But true to life his lines some trace must bear 
Of life's mysterious sorrow and despair. 

The sweetest music breathes a minor strain, 
And life would not be perfect but for pain. 

And so the poet sings of grief and strife, 
And tears and fears, because of such is life. 



1361 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



Where Mother Sleeps 

\X7HERE mother sleeps 

No sunbeam glances gladly; 

But the wind sadly 
Through the long grasses sweeps. 
The night dew weeps, 

And darkly shadows fall 

From the old ruined abbey wall 
Where ivy creeps. 

No song of bird, 

Saving the owlet's dismal cry, is heard. 
No floweret gay, 
Child of the sun-loved summer day. 

From the cold earth upleaps. 
But all is drear: 
Death's silence reigneth here — 

Where mother sleeps. 



137 1 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



When All the World Goes Wrong 

"1X7HEN all the world goes wrong, my dear, 

When all the world goes wrong, 
When in the heart no hope there is. 

And in the soul no song; 
When every thought with grief is fraught. 

Ah, then I look and long 
For love and cheer from thee, my dear, 

When all the world goes wrong ! 

When all the world goes right, my dear, 

When all the world goes right, 
With every promise proving true 

And every prospect bright; 
The gladsome gleams of golden dreams 

Are fairer in my sight, 
If thou art near to share, my dear, 

When all the world goes right ! 

But let the world go right or wrong, 

Thy hand and voice and kiss 
Can charm away, from day to day, 

My sadness into bliss; 

[38] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

With thee to share my joy and care, 
My toil, my smile, my song, 

I will not fret, but freely let 
The world go right or wrong ! 



I39l 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



My Song 

T SAID, **I '11 sing of all the foreign places 
And of the faces that my eyes have seen, 
Since, long ago, I looked my last on Erin, 

Beloved Erin of the valleys green!" 
And there before me like a panorama. 

The long, long drama of my exiled days, 
The friends and scenes of many a year of wand'ring, 

As I sat pond'ring, passed before my gaze. 

But when I tried to sing, behold, I could not i 
My fingers would not wake the silent chords; 

And though I bent my mind unto the singing 
There was no ringing of the magic words. 

And then I said: "I '11 sing of one the dearest, 

Of one the nearest in the storm and strife. 
Of one who led me through the toil and trouble 

Of things ignoble to a better life; 
Yea, I will steep my soul in dreamings of her. 

For oh ! I love her and have loved her long, 
And I will wake my harp to give expression 

To all my passion in a sweet, sweet song." 

[40] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

But when I tried to sing, behold, I could not ! 

My fingers would not o'er the harpstrings move, 
And though I bent my mind unto the singing 

There was no ringing of the lay of love. 

I said at last, "I '11 sing a song of Erin, 

My own dear Erin o'er the distant seas; 
I '11 sing of all the olden, golden glories 

That fill the stories of her seanavhies; 
For through my veins her ancient blood is flowing, 

My heart is glowing with her ancient fire. 
And I will sing of her, though sad and lonely, 

My land, the only land of my desire ! " 

And then I sang ; I struck the harp with boldness ; 

No longer coldness hindered mind or hand; 
And from my lips there poured the pride, the gladness, 

Ay, and the sadness of my native land ! 



I 41 I 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



" A Dreamer Lives Forever " 

T TOO, have been a dreamer; I have knelt 
To truth and beauty in Arcadian meads; 
The rapture of the poet I have felt, 
And all his keen desire for noble deeds. 

And though my money-minded neighbor deems 
Of little worth the things that I have done, 

Far dearer to the dreamer are his dreams 
Than all the wealth by worldly wisdom won. 



I 42) 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



When Summer Comes Again 

\7L7HEN summer comes again, dear, 

And balmy breezes blow, 
The fields will all be sweet with flowers 

That now are white with snow; 
Blue mists will wrap the hill, dear, 

And echoes haunt the glen. 
And sunbeams kiss the rill, dear, 

When summer comes again. 

When winter winds have fled, dear, 

And winter's dreary hours. 
The lark will whistle in the cloud, 

The blackbird in the bowers; 
The earth her best will don, dear, 

To glad the eyes of men. 
When winter days are gone, dear, 

And summer comes again. 

When summer comes again, dear, 

And love a spell hath wove 
Around thy gentle heart and mine 

That scarce have dreamed of love, 

l43l 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

The coldness of the past, dear, 
Will be forgotten then, 

When love is lord at last, dear, 
And summer comes again. 



[44] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



Ah, Sweet is Tipperary 

AH, sweet is Tipperary in the springtime of the year, 
'^^ When the hawthorn 's whiter than the snow, 
When the feather folk assemble and the air is all 
a-tremble 
With their singing and their winging to and fro ; 
When queenly Slieve-na-mon puts her verdant vesture 
on, 
And smiles to hear the news the breezes bring; 
When the sun begins to glance on the rivulets that 
dance — 
Ah, sweet is Tipperary in the spring ! 

Ah, sweet is Tipperary in the springtime of the year, 
When the mists are rising from the lea, 

When the Golden Vale is smiling with a beauty all 
beguiling 
And the Suir ^ goes crooning to the sea; 

* Pronounced Shure. This is the river mentioned by 
Spenser in his *' Faerie Queene," as 

"... The gentle Sbure that making way 
By sweet Clonmel adorns rich Waterford." 

[4Sl 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

When the shadows and the showers only multiply the 
flowers 

That the lavish hand of May will fling; 
When in unfrequented ways, fairy music softly plays — 

Ah, sweet is Tipperary in the spring ! 

Ah, sweet is Tipperary in the springtime of the year, 

When life like the year is young, 
When the soul is just awaking like a lily blossom 
breaking. 

And love words linger on the tongue; 
When the blue of Irish skies is the hue of Irish eyes, 

And love dreams cluster and cling 
Round the heart and round the brain, half of pleasure, 
half of pain — 

Ah, sweet is Tipperary in the spring ! 



[46] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



Remorse 

T SPOKE to him shortly, sharply, 
I looked on him with a frown, 
I told him his sins and follies 

Were the talk of all the town — 
And now there's a sorrow in my heart 

That tears can never drown. 

Sympathy never I offered, 

Blinded I was with pride, 
The hand I should have reached him 

Hung idly at my side — 
And now Remorse a constant guest 

Will ever with me abide. 

Ah, had I been more loving. 
Had I but guarded and led; 

But I went my way unheeding, 
And closed my heart instead; 

And now, too late, I love him, 
Too late, for he is dead. 

[47 1 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



The Poet's Heart 

npHE poet's heart *s a crucible wherein 

The baser metals of life's grief and wrong 
Are by the subtle alchemy of pain 
Transmuted straight into the gold of song. 



[48] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



A Song of Liberty 

/^PEN your ears to the song I sing you, 
^^^ Open your eyes to the truth I show, 
Open your hearts to the hope I bring you, 
Hope for a land that is lying low; 
Centuries old are the chains that bind her, 

Centuries old is the scar she bears, 
Bitter as death are the days behind her, 
Yet through it all she never despairs ! 

Rouse you then from your idle dreaming, 
Wake to welcome the time at hand, 
Liberty's light will soon be streaming 
Over the hills of our native land ! 

Red in the night the fires are glowing, 

Loud in the night the anvils ring, 
Faces dark in the flames are showing. 

Sinewy arms the sledges swing, 
Steady and sure the task pursuing, 

Each after each the metal strikes — 
Men, are you blind to the work they're doing? 

Can you not see they are forging pikes ! 

I 49 I 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

Pikes, the weapons of good and true men, 
Pikes, the weapons of Freedom's sons, 
Pikes to put in the hands of you, men, 
After a while you may capture guns ! 

Listen, we 've heard from across the water, 

Heard a message from friendly lips — 
France, young Liberty's daring daughter, 

Over the sea is sending ships 
Laden with means for the land's salvation — 

Men and money and arms, galore. 
Coming to help us raise the nation 
Up to her ancient place once more ! 

Rouse you then from your idle dreaming. 
Grasp the weapon that fits the hand. 
Liberty's light will soon be streaming 
Over the hills of our native land ! 



[sol 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



First Love 

/^H, sweet is life when Youth is in the blood ! 
^^^ And Love first lays his glamour on the heart ? 
When dreams anticipant are at their flood, 
And into being new-found feelings start ! 

O Time ! thy swiftly flying steps retrace ; 

Come, Love, again, and fill my heart with joy; 
For what can Manhood offer to replace 

The rapturous self-deception of a boy ! 



I SI] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



The Sorrow of Love 

T SAID, *'I am fain to borrow, 

O Life, of your joys' sweet store." 
But the gift of Love brought sorrow 
Worse than was mine before. 

Yet I 'm conscious of life completer 

From the sorrows the years have brought, 

For the sorrow of Love is sweeter 
Than joy where Love is not. 



[521 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



An Old Woman's Thought 

Ah, if I were only in Erin, 
■^^ In Erin far over the wave, 
'T is little at all I'd be carin', 

And few are the troubles I 'd have ! 
For there are the well-beloved places — 

The chapel, the village, the mill. 
The sthream laughing loud as it races 

Down from the hill. 

There, mornin's in spring many scented, 

There hawthorn's snowy white bloom. 
There sunsets at evenin' God-painted, 

There glow-worms shine in the gloom 
There boreens enchantin'ly mazy 

All bordered with flowers in June, 
There daffy-down-dilly and daisy 

And meadow larks tune. 

There friends at each turn to meet me 
With kindly "God save you, asthore!" 

An' others with blessin's to greet me 
The minute I 'd open the door. 

I53l 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

There children the soft chair to bring me, 
Sayin', "Welcome! Sit down awhile, ma'am," 

And never the cowld word to sting me, 
Ould as I am. 

But here I am weary, so weary ! 

The city's smoke spreads like a pall. 
The skies are so gray and so dreary. 

There's no friend to greet me at all; 
My daughters are proud, overbearin'. 

My sons wish me laid in the grave — 
Ah ! if I were only in Erin, 

'T is few of these troubles I 'd have ! 



!S4] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



" In the Tumult of the City 



j> 



TN the tumult of the city there is neither rest nor 
peace, 

Of the hurry and the worry we may never know 
surcease, 

For, before one trouble 's ended there 's another all 
begun. 

And before one race is over there 's another to be 
run. 

But I know a land of quiet, but I know a place of 
dreams. 

By a softly-flowing river that *s the pleasantest of 
streams, 

Where a soothing wind is sighing through the mead- 
ows all the day, 

In my own dear native valley far away ! 

In the tumult of the city there is glory to be won. 
And the promptings of ambition at one's heart are 

never done; 
But I 'm weary of the struggle and I 'm fain again to 

Ue 
In the long, luxuriant grasses where the river wanders 

by. 

[55l 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

Let them fight for fame who want it, I had rather sit 

and dream 
In the pleasant fields of Erin with the sunlight on the 

stream ; 
What's the good of gold and glory when your life is 

dull and gray, 
And you 're sighing for a valley far away ! 

But the tumult of the city, howsoever loud it be, 

Can not drown the robin's singing in the fields of 
memory ; 

And the clouds of care that hover, can not mar the 
mental view 

Of the smiling Irish meadows with the river flowing 
through ; 

So I '11 face, again, the battle, though the odds be ten 
to one. 

For the future can not rob me of the happiness that 's 
gone; 

And I '11 gird my soul in patience, though I never- 
more may stray 

Through my own dear native valley far away ! 



I 56 1 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



Go Where You Will 

/^ O where you will, my heart will follow after ; 
Ever my ears are listening for your laughter; 
Ever my eyes look longingly to see 
Your face, again, that is so dear to me ! 

Go where you will, may blessings be about you; 
Drear are the days, dear one, and sad, without you ; 
Swift be the wings of time until I see 
Your face, again, that is so dear to me ! 

Go where you will — love laughs at time or distance ; 
Love still maintains, through all, its sweet insistence; 
Yet, knowing this, I still am fain to see 
Your face, again, that is so dear to me ! 



[57 1 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



A Question 

TF, after all the vows that I have sworn 

Of love and constancy, my heart should stray 
To brighter eyes and redder lips, and scorn 
Thy love that has been mine for many a day, 

Wouldst thou upbraid me with a bitter tongue, 
And call down curses on my recreant head? 

Or wouldst thou, for love's sake, forgive the wrong, 
And let thy heart be merciful instead? 



1 58] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



A Shamrock from the Suir* 

/^UR country's feast is drawing near; 
^^^ Then, sister mine, I pray. 
Send me a little shamrock, dear, 

To wear upon that day; 
'T will comfort me, and make me strong 

My exile to endure, 
'T will be what I have wished for long — 

A shamrock from the Suir. 

A shamrock from the sun-loved vale 

Wherein my youth was spent; 
A shamrock kissed by ev'ry gale 

And sweet with springtime's scent; 
A shamrock that at vesper bell 

Has drunk of dew-drops pure; 
A shamrock that the heart can tell 

Grew green beside the Suir ! 

And oh, the memories of old 
That to my mind will rise, 

^ Pronounced Shure. 

[59] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

When I the triple leaves behold 
Again, with tear-dimmed eyes ! 

And oh, the dreams of days ere yet 
I followed fortune's lure, 

Ere hearts were sad, or eyes tear-wet 
Beside the peaceful Suir ! 

And faces that for years have lain 

Beneath the graveyard mould 
Will greet me smilingly again 

As in the days of old; 
And once again my mother mild 

Will breathe her teachings pure, 
For I '11 be as a Uttle child — 

A child beside the Suir. 

Then send a shamrock, dear, to me 

Across the dreary wave. 
And pluck it from beneath the tree 

That shades our mother's grave; 
And all the pain and weariness 

Which vainly seeks a cure 
Will fly, when to my lips I press 

That shamrock from the Suir ! 



[60] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



Memories of Ireland 

T SEE in dreams a purple mountain rise 

Above a verdant vale, 
Across the azure stretches of the skies 
I see the cloud-ships sail. 

A river rippled by a wandering wind 

Sighs mournfully along, 
As if its waters grieved to leave behind 

The beauties here that throng. 

And this is home, thus pictured in my dreams, 

This hill is Slieve-na-mon ; 
And this the Suir, the queen of all the streams 

The sunlight plays upon. 

This is the summer sky of bygone days 

That on my youthhood smiled, 
And this the Golden Valley, through whose ways 

I wandered when a child. 
[6i] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

Oh, dear dream-pictures of my native Isle 

Across the spreading seas, 
You give me grief — you give me joy the while, 

Oh, sad, sweet memories ! 

For, as in Ireland, through the blinding rain 

The sun's bright rays are cast; 
So pleasure mingles in my heart with pain 

Remembering the past ! 



162] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



Dreams 

"IXTHEN the balmy days grow long, 
Love, I dream of thee the more, 

And I weave into my song 

All the sad, sweet thoughts that throng 
Of the golden days of yore. 

If to dream of thee be wrong, 
Then have I offended sore. 
Love, I dream of thee the more 

When the balmy days grow long. 

All the winter have I sighed 
For thy presence, wearily; 

Grieving gazed across the wide 

Gulf of selfish human pride 
That divided thee and me. 

Now sweet hope inspires my song, 
Wears the smile that once she wore — 
Love, I dream of thee the more 

When the balmy days grow long ! 



[631 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



Poor Love must Wait 

"pOOR Love must wait till duty 's done, 

Poor Love must wait till fame be won, 
Though years go sighing, one by one, 

''Too late! Too late!" 
Till duty 's done and fame be won. 

Poor Love must wait. 

Poor Love must wait though hearts may ache. 
Poor Love must wait though hearts may break, 
Though tears will flow for his dear sake — 

Yet such is Fate, 
Though hearts may ache, though hearts may break, 

Poor Love must wait ! 

Poor Love must wait, through every pain, 
Poor Love must wait — but not in vain. 
Though all things else by time be slain. 

Love conquers Fate ! 
Oh, not in vain, through every pain 

Poor Love must wait ! 

I641 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



To One in Bohemia 

O ROTHER in suffering, brother, too, in song, 

We well can smile at what the days may bring, 
For we have known the limit of life's wrong 
And felt of sorrow's pain the utmost sting. 

Then let us sing — gazing with fearless eyes 
Upon the coming years, whate'er they bear, 

Behold the sun is shining in the skies. 
And God is master of the world's despair! 



1 65 1 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



O Land of Youth ! 

r\ LAND of Youth ! O Land of hopeful hearts ! 
^"^ O flowery, fruitful Land of faith and trust ! 
How sweet to turn — as year on year departs, 

And sees each fond illusion fall to dust — 
How sweet, and yet how sad, to turn away 

From present pain, the past to linger o'er, 
And try to bring into the bleak to-day 

The dreams of joy that I shall know no more ! 

O Land of Youth ! Swift rolls the tide of Time, 

Whose current bears me farther still from thee, 
Through many a strange and uncongenial clime 

My bark of life goes outward to the sea; 
More distant grow thy hills that used to rise 

Like inspirations in the days of yore. 
And naught remains of thee to glad my eyes, 

O Land of Youth, that I shall see no more ! 

But memory musing o'er the golden hours 
That once were mine within thy verdant vales, 

Transports me back again among the flowers 
Whose fragrance freighted all the summer gales; 

[66] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

And one fair face that I would fain forget 
Looks out upon me from a cottage door. 

Until my heart is weary with regret — 
Regret for love that I shall know no more ! 

O Land of Youth; Too soon we leave behind 

Thy ways serene, thy innocent delights ! 
Too soon we burden the exhausted mind 

With toilsome days of care and cheerless nights ! 
Would God that it had been my lot to stay 

A little longer on thy friendly shore, 
And so, perhaps, possess thy peace to-day — 

Thy blessed peace, that I shall know no more ! 



[67] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



Across the Seas in Erin 

ACROSS the seas in Erin are manly hearts and true, 
^^ Are souls to dream, 

And minds to scheme, 
And willing hands to do ! 
Then wherefore from her valleys do her scattered 

people flee? 
And wherefore is she still oppressed when other lands 
are free? 
Alas ! alas, for Erin ! With all her brain and brawn, 
The years reveal 
Her children's steel 
Against each other drawn. 

Across the seas in Erin are men like those who made 
The martial fame 
And splendid name 
Of Meagher's bold brigade ! 
Then wherefore is the right denied that she has sued 

for long? 
And why is she still bowed beneath sad centuries of 
wrong ? 

[68] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

Alas ! alas, for Erin ! With all the stirring deeds, 

In chains she lives, 

And no one gives 
The unity she needs. 

Across the seas in Erin, what Joy to hear again 
The voice of one 
Whose magic tone 
Could fuse the hearts of men ! 
Could fuse the various hearts of men till petty strife 

should die, 
And o'er her hills should ring one grand united 
battle cry! 
Alas ! alas, for Erin ! Her faith in men is past. 
But God is Just, 
And God He must 
Uplift her at the last ! 



[691 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



Rose of my Heart 

"O OSES riot in rich profusion 

Over the garden walls of June; 
Birds are singing in rare confusion 
Each with his own sweet summer tune. 

Fair are the flowers that mom discloses 
Still suffused with the tears of dew — 

Yet I know that of all the roses, 
Rose of my heart, there is none like you ! 



[701 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



The Memory of Emmet 

'VT'EARS come and go, and kings grow old and die, 
And those who whilom held the world in thrall 
Throneless and sceptreless and crownless lie, 
Finding in death the common fate of all. 

Systems and dynasties and nations rise, 
Awhile the destinies of men they sway; 

Anon a ruin staring at the skies 
Proclaims their littleness and their decay. 

Vainly the monarch flings around his throne 
A shining armament of mail-clad hordes; 

Vainly, for lo, the centuries are strown 

With wrecks of kingdoms once upheld by swords ! 

Nothing survives save Right — nor king, nor throne ; 

That nation, howsoe'er its strongholds stand, 
Which hath not Right for its foundation-stone 

Is like a house that 's built upon the sand. 

[71] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

Nothing survives save Right — for God is just ; 

The Right is His, He guards it thro' the years ; 
He humbles the oppressor in the dust, 

He hath an answer to a nation's tears. 

Nothing survives save Right — a man to-day 
For loving Right may meet a shameful death, 

But glorified by death, his name, for aye, 
Becomes the watchword of a nation's faith ! 

Thus Emmet died a hundred years ago. 
Thus unto Right his faithfulness he proved; 

His only crime — for crime they called it so — 
Was this, he would have freed the land he loved ! 

A hundred years ago. And yet, and yet, 
Where is the Irish heart that does not flame, 

Fired with a love 't were treason to forget, 
At the mere sound of Robert Emmet's name ! 

He saw his country's very life assailed. 
Bleeding and bound a victim at the stake. 

He tried to set her free and, when he failed, 
He freely gave his life for her dear sake. 

"Let no man write my epitaph," he said; 
(A hand enslaved were utterly unfit,) 

[72] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

So on the stone that marks where he is laid, 
His country, still un-freed, no word has writ. 

But what are epitaphs engraved on stone, 

Or eulogies emblazoned on a scroll? 
His name and fame endures, and his alone, 

Whose deeds are shrined within his country^s soul. 

Kings and their hireling hosts, when they depart, 
Rot un-remembered as the years go by; 

But while there beats one faithful Irish heart, 
The memory of Emmet shall not die ! 



173] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



A Prairie Reminiscence 

TN the years of youth and yearning, when I wandered 

free and far 
Out beyond the smoke of cities where the spreading 

prairies are, 
Once I lingered for a season by a stream that flowed 

along, 
Lingered captured and enraptured by a maiden and 
a song. 
Ah, the years between are long, 
But remembrances mil throng 
Of a little blue-eyed maiden with a soul unknowing 
wrong, 
Though she 's lying low to-day 
In the westland far away, 
I am dreaming, ever dreaming, of her smile and of 
her song ! 

Oh, the splendor of that summer never from my mind 

shall fade ! 
Nor the sweetness of the singing nor the beauty of the 

maid, 
Though the days of youth may vanish, yet the dreams 

of youth remain, 

I 74] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

Be the measure of our pleasure mingled howsoever 
with pain. 
Ah, the years between are long, 
But remembrances will throng 
Of a little blue-eyed maiden with a soul unknowing 
wrong. 
Though upon her lonely grave 
Prairie blooms in beauty wave, 
I am dreaming, ever dreaming, of her smile and of 
her song ! 

Long ago I ceased my roving, ceased to wander free 

and far, 
And the golden grand ideals of my boyhood buried 

are; 
But a vision comes to cheer me as the dull days drag 

along 
Of a maiden, flower-laden, pouring forth her soul in 
song. 
Ah, the years between are long, 
Still the memory is strong 
Of a little blue-eyed maiden with a soul unknowing 
wrong. 
Summer's sun and winter's snow, 
In her grave she 's lying low ; 
But I 'm dreaming, ever dreaming, of her smile and of 
her song ! 

l7Sl 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



In Summer 

A CROSS the land the summer walks in splendor; 
'^^ The flowers spnng up to greet her, and the skies 
Look down upon her with a glance as tender 
As love awakens in a maiden's eyes. 

Along the eaves I see the creeper clinging, 

The morning-glories open to the sun. 
And in the orchard trees the birds are singing 

Their vesper service when the day is done. 

The silence of the winter and its sadness 
Have given place to music and to mirth, 

And yet my heart discovers naught of gladness 
In all the light and beauty of the earth. 

For one who loved the summer and the sweetness 
Of woods and fields responsive to her breath 

Has passed away with more than summer's fleetness 
Into the realm of darkness and of death. 



[76] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



A Picture 

T OVE'S languorous look lies dreaming in her 
•■^ eyes, 

Red roses cluster in her night-black hair, 
And all in vain her snowy vesture tries 

To match the whiteness of her bosom fair. 

Serenely beautiful, with every grace, 
With every gift that nature can impart, 

A perfect woman, radiant in her place, 
And lacking only this : A woman's heart ! 



[77 1 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



For Love's Sweet Sake 

/^H, I have wandered many a weary mile, 

^"^ For Love's sweet sake, 

With aching heart and breaking heart the while, 

For Love's sweet sake, 
And often have I seen, through all those years, 
My brightest hopes dissolve in darkest fears, 
And known full well the bitterness of tears, 

For Love's sweet sake. 

The ways forsaken of the world I 've trod, 

For Love's sweet sake, 
My miseries unseen of all but God, 

For Love's sweet sake. 
A stranger among strangers, I have lain 
My tired head upon the lap of Pain, 
And felt the weight of burdens borne in vain, 

For Love's sweet sake. 

And knowing all I have endured for thee, 

And Love's sweet sake, 
Wilt thou not, of thy pity, turn to me, 

For Love's sweet sake? 

[78] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

Unlock the door thy blindness closed fast, 
Forget the cruel coldness of the past, 
And let me come into thy heart at last, 
For Love's sweet sake ! 



I 79 I 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



I Saw 

T SAW the golden moon arise 

Out of the silent sea, 
I saw the star-shine fill the skies 

With deeper mystery; 
I saw the shadowy ships go on 

Across the swelling tide — 
And grief was in my heart for one 

Who loved me and who died ! 



1 80] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



Voices from Erin 

'TpHERE are always voices calling to the exile over- 
seas, 
Cries from Erin's mother-heart are on the wings of 
every wind; 
And they fill the eye with pictures, and the mind with 
memories, 
Of the days of youth and love that, long ago, he 
left behind. 

There are always voices calling — and the clamorous 
demands 
Of the present, its ambitions and its triumphs and 
its fears. 
Can not lessen for an instant, tho' he strays in distant 
lands. 
All the sweetness to the exile of the dreams of 
other years ! 



[81] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



Sweetheart 

CWEETHEART, O sweetheart! Though winter 

winds are loud, 
Though silently the earth lies beneath its snowy- 
shroud, 
For me the birds are singing and the skies serene 

and blue. 
Sweetheart, O sweetheart ! And all because of you. 

Sweetheart, O sweetheart ! The hearts of some are 
bowed 

In homage to the haughty, in bondage to the proud. 
But happier am I by far than those who vainly sue. 
Sweetheart, O sweetheart ! And all because of you. 

Sweetheart, O sweetheart! though thickly sorrows 

crowd, 
Though false are the friends who eternal friendship 
vowed. 
For me the future shines as if all the world were true, 
Sweetheart, O sweetheart ! And all because of you. 

182] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



" The Heart of Having is Sad " 

/^H, how can you repay me for the hopeless love 
^^ and longing 
Of the silent adoration that I offered you for 
years — 
For years of doubt and darkness and of trials that 
came thronging, 
When my heritage and portion was the bitterness of 
tears! 

The happiness you grant me now it may not find 
expression ; 
The love you lavish on me it is given few to know — 
But yet, despite the rapture of the present and its 
passion, 
I can't forget the desolate despair of long ago ! 



1 83] 



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Heroes 

TF so it be we are forbid by fate 

To do the deeds that make a hero great, 

Let 's do our duty each one as he should, 
And, lacking greatness, let 's at least be good. 

Oh, there are seeds of kindness to be sown 

In hearts that never have such kindness known | 

And words of gentleness and actions true 
Are always possible for me and you. 

'T is true these seem of little worth, because 
They do not win for us the world's applause. 

But noble actions are not judged by size, 
The great intent the action magnifies. 

And though our names the world may never fill, 
The ear of God may find them sweeter still. 

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Ireland 

/^H, Ireland, Ireland, amid the waters blue, 

^^^ Across the seas, across the years my heart goes 

back to you, 
To you and to the faithful friends my early boyhood 

knew 
In Ireland, Ireland, so tender and so true ! 

Oh, Ireland, Ireland, I mind me of the dew 

That sparkled on the flowers fair that in your meadows 

grew, 
I mind me of the playmates and the schoolmates not 

a few 
In Ireland, Ireland, so tender and so true ! 

Oh, Ireland, Ireland, though other nations sue 

To win my heart's affection, yet I *m not forgetting 

you. 
There are no scenes so beautiful, no friends like those 

I knew 
In Ireland, Ireland, so tender and so true ! 

[8s] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



When Love Lay Dead 

AX^HEN Love lay dead — 

Communing with my grieving heart, I said; 

"Now let my lot be wheresoever cast, 

Little I care, the joy of life is past. 
The golden dreams that filled the olden days, 
The gladd'ning gleams of love-illumined ways. 

For aye have fled. 
Gone are the smiles that once the future wore, 
Gone are the gifts that once the future bore, 
Gone is my happiness, forevermore, 

Since Love lies dead." 

But from Love's tomb 

Upsprang, as springs a flower in perfect bloom, 

A hope of purer, better, things to be — 

A mind made stronger by its misery, 
A heart grown tenderer by wounds that bled, 
And eyes made kindlier by tears they shed, 

A soul set free — 

And life grew sweet, again, so sweet to me, 
Though Love lay dead ! 

(86 1 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



The Midnight Mass 

(An incident of the Penal Days.) 

\1I7ITH stealthy steps across the wold 

In haste the hunted soggarth * goes, 
The winter winds are blowing cold, 

Around him fall the winter snows. 
But little does he heed the wind. 

The blinding snow, the dark morass, 
Far fiercer are the foes behind — 

He goes to say the midnight Mass. 

For hours, with many a devious turn, 

He 's led the chase o'er moor and fen, 
Beheld the village tapers burn. 

But dare not seek the haunts of men, 
For close upon his track have prest, 

(His holy faith the only cause) 
With horrid oath and ruffian jest, 

The minions of the Penal Laws. 

* Properly sagart, the Irish word for priest. 

[871 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

And woe to bim should evil hap, 

Into their hands the priest betray ! 
The raven o'er his corse would flap 

Her sable pinions ere the day — 
But fainter now have grown their cries, 

Their shots more distant than before, 
And hopes within his heart arise 

That he has baffled them once more. 

But vain the hope of baffled foes; 

A few more sanguine than the rest 
Still mark the trail as on he goes, 

Still keep the chase with eager zest; 
But all unconscious fares he still, 

By tangled wood and torrent dread 
To where, beneath a lonely hill. 

The Mass in secret may be said. 

Oh, failte! failtet Round him throng 

The remnant of his scattered flock — 
And Mass, with neither chant nor song, 

Is offered from a fallen rock. 
And never at cathedral shrine 

Were purer spirits wrapped in prayer 
Than those who worshipped the Divine 

Before that lowly altar there. 
[88] 



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But hark ! The rite is scarcely done 

When rings a cry upon the breeze — 
**Up, Father, for your life, and run!" 

The priest arises from his knees. 
Too late ! One muttered prayer to God : 

A volley shakes the mountain-pass, 
The priest lies slain upon the sod, 

He'll say no more the midnight Mass! 



1 89] 



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C( 



Come Unto Me" 



PpiLLED is the world with misery and sorrow, 

Sad are our lives with bitterness and sin, 
Cares for to-day and worries for to-morrow, 

Darkness without and deeper gloom within; 
Yet in the midst of our profound depression 

There is an eye Divine our needs to see, 
There is a voice of infinite compassion 

Saying in accents sweet, "Come unto Me." 

*'Come unto Me, you weary ones that labor, 

Jesus of Nazareth — lo, I am He ! 
I am the Christ transfigured on Mount Tabor, 

I am the Christ transfixed on Calvary ! 
What though you 've sinned against my heavenly 
Father, 

Yet have I pity on your souls distrest. 
You to My Sacred Heart I fain would gather, 

Come unto Me and I \\ill give you rest. 

" Come unto Me ! Oh, heed the invitation, 
You whom the world has treated with disdain; 

[90] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

You who have need of strength and consolation, 
You who would find a solace for your pain; 

Cease to pursue each fleeting, false ideal, 
Follow no longer every fruitless quest; 

Only in Me is there a joy that's real, 
Only with Me will you find perfect rest." 

Ah ! the sweet word of our dear Lord in heaven, 

Ah ! the bright hope that nothing here can dim, 
Though on our lives the stain of sin be, even. 

He '11 not deny us if we come to Him ; 
Then let our nearest turn in coldness from us. 

Then let our dearest fail at friendship's test, 
Have we not Christ and His unfailing promise: 

"Come unto Me and I will give you rest"? 

Many a shadow may enshroud the dreamer, 

Many a cry may fall upon his ear. 
But the sweet voice of his Divine Redeemer 

Softly insistent he must always hear; 
And though his days be filled with strife and sadness, 

And though he sings but in a minor key, 
Still there remains to touch his life with gladness 

Ever the words of Christ: "Come unto Me." 



[91] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



Christmas-time in Ireland 

AT Christmas-time in Ireland how the holly 
branches twine 
In stately hall and cabin old and gray! 
And red among the lea es the holly-berries brightly 
shine, 
At Christmas-time in Ireland far away. 
And brighter than the berries are the kindly Irish eyes, 

And cheery are the greetings of the day, — 
The greetings and the blessings from the Irish hearts 
that rise 
At Christmas-time in Ireland far away ! 

At Christmas-time in Ireland you can hear the chapel 
bell 
A-calling ere the dawning of the day. 
You can see the people thronging over field and over 
fell, 
To the "early Mass" in Ireland far away; 
And saintly are the soggarths ^ that before the altars 
stand. 
And faithful are the flocks that kneel and pray — 

^ Properly, sagairt, plural of sagari, priest. 

[92] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

Ah, surely God must show'r His choicest blessings on 
the land 
At Christmas-time in Ireland far away ! 

At Christmas-time in Ireland there is feasting, there is 
song. 
And merrily the fife and fiddle play, 
And lightly dance the colleens and the boys the even- 
ing long. 
At Christmas-time in Ireland far away. 
There is light and there is laughter, there is music, 
there is mirth, 
And lovers speak as only lovers may, — 
Ah, there is nothing half so sweet in any land on earth 
As Christmas-time in Ireland far away ! 

At Christmas-time in Ireland there is sorrow, too, for 
those 

Who scattered far in exile sadly stray. 
And many a tear in silence for a friend beloved flows 

At Christmas-time in Ireland far away; 
But still amid the grieving is a hope to banish fears, 

That God will send them safely back some day. 
To know again the happiness that long ago was theirs 

At Christmas-time in Ireland far away ! 



[93] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



The Song I Would Sing 

T 'M fain, in the song that I sing for thee, dearest, 

To weave all the beauties around me that lie, 
The gleam of the stream when its wave is the clearest, 

The green of the woods and the blue of the sky; 
The crystalline dew on the grass of the meadows, 

The morning mist hiding the high mountain crest, 
The shine of the sun and the play of the shadows, 

The shimmer of leaves that are never at rest — 

But only a rime that has no beauty in it 
Is all the result of the effort I make, 

And dreams that I 'd capture are gone in a minute, 
And rude is the song that I sing for your sake. 

I 'm fain in the song that I sing for thee, dearest, 
To weave all the music that nature affords. 

The lilt of the lark when the summer is nearest. 
Too subtle and sweet in its meaning for words; 

The hum of the bees that are robbing the roses, 
The faraway sound of the surges of seas, 

[94l 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

The chorus of birds when the summer day closes, 
The laughter of rills and the whisper of trees, 

But only a rime that has no music in it 
Is all the result of the effort I make. 

And dreams that I 'd capture are gone in a minute, 
And rude is the song that I sing for your sake. 



I 95] 



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Waiting 

/^H, ever and ever the waves roll in, 
^"^ And beat on the yellow sands ! 
But never, oh never, the lad comes back 

Who voyaged to distant lands ! 
The ocean is white with the sails of ships 

That steer for the harbor of Lynn; 
I scan them all with an anxious eye, 
But never my ship comes in. 

Moans the sea, the wild winds wail, 
But still no trace of my lover's sail; 
Sailor men drinking and singing in Lynn, 
But never, oh never, my ship comes in ! 

Long years ago my lover's ship 

Sailed out on the ebbing tide; 
I watched her till only a tiny speck 

Upon the horizon wide. 
And many a gallant youth since then 

Has striven my heart to win — 
But my heart is over the waters afar 

With a ship that never comes in. 

[96 1 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

Oh, ever and ever the sound of the wave ! — 
It cries like a mother over a grave; 
Wedding bells clanging and ringing in Lynn, 
But never, oh never, my ship comes in ! 

Yestreen the maidens, one and all, 

Donned holiday coif and gown 
To greet the soldiers, scarlet clad, 

Parading through the town. 
Rejoiced and cheered they all save I, 

For 'mid the merry din 
I thought of a sailor lad, and I wept 

For a ship that never comes in. 

Oh, young folk marry, and old folk die, 
Merry folk laugh, and weary folk sigh ! 
Sad, oh sad, is the town of Lynn, 
For never, oh never, my ship comes in ! 



[97] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



After Summer 

"VT'OU will come again, O Summer, with the fra- 

grance of the flowers, 
And the verdant meadows vying with the beauty of 

the bowers. 
Shady woods and waves that shimmer, and the blue 

sky bending o'er, 
But a happy heart, O Summer, you will bring me 

back no more ! 

You will come again, O Summer, with the singing of 

the birds, 
And the loving laugh replying to the ring of wooing 

words. 
With the mirth and merry-making of the days in 

pleasure spent, 
But you '11 never bring, O Summer, back again my 

heart's content ! 



[98 1 



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Do We Forget? 

T^O we forget because our tears are dried, 
^'^ Because the passionate outburst of our woe 
Is silent now, are our beloved who died 
Forgotten in their narrow beds and low? 

Ah, no; though other thoughts may move the mind, 
Though other feelings may possess the heart, 

We keep the memory of the dead enshrined 
In deep recesses, sacred and apart. 

And though we weep no more as first we did 

When death appeared and hid them from our eyes. 

Love is not covered with a coffin-lid. 
And sad remembrance of them never dies ! 



[99l 



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Love and Reason 

TF love forget what love most dear should hold, 

Or learn the things that love should never know, 
Then, maid, beware, — for soon above the cold 
Dead ashes of your love your tears will flow. 

Lovers draught is sweet — the sweetest far that flows 
To bathe the lips of those who fain would sup; 

Love's draught is sweet, but bitter soon it grows, 
If reason be not mingled in the cup. 



[ 100 ] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



An Exile's Longing 

\X7HEN I feel the breezes blowing,,strongly blowing 
^^ from the West, 
And I mark the steamers sailing back across the 

ocean's breast, 
Then my heart is sick within me to be going with the 
rest 

To Ireland ! 
For the weary years are long, 
And my life is going wrong. 
And I 'm longing for the sight of Ireland ! 

Oh happy are the people who with streaming eyes 

behold 
In the blessed light of morning Erin's headlands 

looming bold. 
And happy thrice are they who tread the scenes 
beloved of old 

In Ireland! 
For the exiled years of grief 
In their present joy are brief, 
And they are glad to be back in Ireland ! 

[lOl] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

Let me come again to Ireland ere my days be all 

forespent, 
Though my hair be white as ashes and my body weak 

and bent, 
Let me only come to die there, and I know I '11 die 
content 

In Ireland. 
For 't is sweet when life is past 
To lie down to rest at last. 
With the friends of our youth in Ireland ! 



[ 102] 



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Whene'er I Think of Thee 

XX/HENE'ER I think of thee, of thee who died 

While yet my lips were warm with thy caress, 
Who pined and failed and faded from my side 

As fades a flower of summer loveliness, 
A long procession moves before my eyes 

Of days that once were dear to thee and me, 
And floods of sadly-sweet emotions rise 

Whene'er I think of thee. 

Whene'er I think of thee my soul expands, 

The beauty of creation is my own, 
No longer bound by sorrow's iron bands 

I pine in rayless wretchedness, alone. 
And all things lovely that have ever been 

Or through the ages evermore will be, 
I hold them every one my heart within 

Whene'er I think of thee. 

The splendor of the sunset and the dawn. 
The rose breath wafted on the winds of June, 

The startled shyness of the forest fawn. 
The haunting music of the robin's tune, 
[ 103 ] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

The mystery of the starlight on the plain, 
The magic of the moonlight on the sea, 

All these, and more than these, are mine again 
Whene'er I think of thee. 

Whene'er I think of thee my youth returns, 

My fair, free youth, my days of daring dreams. 
And many a joy for which the present yearns, 

Comes back to haunt me with its golden gleams. 
And youthful hopes, love-sanctified and blest, 

Once more in all their witchery I see; 
They come again, my first-beloved and best, 

Whene'er I think of thee. 



( 104] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



i( 



Bonny Mary of Argyle " 



"¥7t7HEN the summer sun in splendor 

On the distant plains had set, 
And the golden-rod so tender 

By the falling dew was wet. 
When the vesper-bird was silent, 

And the winds had ceased to sigh, 
By our cottage door we gathered 

Out beneath the dark'ning sky, 
And full soon a voice was ringing. 

And we sat entranced the while, — 
One we loved was sweetly singing 

"Bonny Mary of Argyle." 

I have heard rich voices blending 

In cathedrals old and dim, 
To the throne of God ascending 

Craving mercy, peace, of Him. 
But within my memory liveth 

That sweet song of other years. 
And hath power to soothe my sadness 

With the blessed balm of tears. 
[losi 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

Ah, the grandest anthem ringing 
In cathedral choir or aisle, 

Could not equal that sweet singing, 
"Bonny Mary of Argyle!" 

'Neath the golden-rod now Ueth 

The fair singer of the song. 
And the western zephyr sigheth 

O'er her lone grave all day long. 
Weary I, and heavy-hearted, 

Plod a-through the world my way, 
And my life with many a sorrow 

Is more darkened day by day, 
But a tender mem'ry clinging 

Brings me back a gentle smile, 
And a voice so sweetly singing 

"Bonny Mary of Argyle.'* 



[106] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



I Think of Thee 

T THINK of thee 

When evening shades are falling, 

And sweet bells calling 
From a white convent o'er the distant lea; 
And dreamily 

The evening breezes blow from out the west. 

The world's at rest, 
In twilight wrapt, serene, and turmoil-free. 

A nightingale 

Sings his sad song and sweet far down the vale 
Where deepest shadows be — 

All lonely I 

Gaze on the darkened meads, the darkening sky, 
And think of thee ! 



[ 107 ] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



A Buried Heart 

'T^HEY buried the maid in the forest glade; 

They digged her grave in the shade of a fir; 
(Over the spot where she is laid 
Whispering winds with branches stir). 

Solemn and slow the gray-haired priest 
Murmured a Latin prayer, and ceased. 
The holy water fell like a tear, 
As they piled the mould upon her bier. 

Low, low in the forest glade 
They laid her down in the shade of a fir — 
But, all unknown to the priest who pray'd, 
Unknown to the wielders of mattock and spade, 
They buried my heart in the grave with her ! 

Fair she was as flow'rs in the dell, 
That rise where the feet of spring have trod. 

And pure as the saints that the seers tell 
Chant round the great white throne of God. 
[io8] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

Sweet was her voice as the birds that sing 
When summer kisses departing spring; 
And her lightest word was more to me 
Than aught on earth again may be. 

Wild was the grief of her friends, and loud, 
As they laid her low in the shade of a fir; 
Tears shone on the cheek of her father proud — 
But I was mute amid the crowd, 
Tho' my heart was deep in the grave with her! 

Toll, toll, O mission bell, 

Toll for the fair-faced maid who died. 
Voices of priests in Masses swell. 

And waft her soul to the Virgin's side ! 

Toll, toll, O sad-voiced bell, 

For the maid who lies in the shade of a fir; 
And, oh, let your notes ring out as well 

For my heart that lies in the grave with her. 



[ 109 I 



A ROUND OF RIMES 



The Autumn Rain 

"n AINING in the springtime ! — 

But we always know 
That the sun will shine again 

In a day or so. 
Though the eaves may drip and drip, 

Skies be overcast, 
In our hearts we feel and say 

"'T is n't long to last. 
Soon the summer's sweetness 

All the land will fill, 
Murk and mist no longer 

Hide the distant hill; 
Soon again the sky will 

Smile upon the plain " — 
Thus we feel in springtime, 

Looking at the rain. 

Raining in the autumn ! — 

Ah, the dreary day ! 
Will the clouds that hide the sun 

Never pass away ! 
[no] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

Listen to the monotone 

Of the dripping eaves. 
List to the lamenting of 

The wind among the leaves. 
Gone the summer's beauty — 

Every bud is dead; 
Gone the summer's music — 

Every bird is fled; 
All the hopes that held us 

Through the year are vain, 
When we sit in autumn 

Looking at the rain ! 



I 111] 



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Come, Cheer Up ! 

^^OME, cheer up, my moody friend! 
^"^ What 's the good of whining ? 
What 's the good of moping 'round 

Sighing and repining? 
See, the sky is bright and blue, 

See, the sun is shining ! 
Let the sun shine in on you, 
On your heart and spirit, too, 
Let it bid you dare and do — 

What 's the good of whining ? 
Come, cheer up ! 

Come, cheer up ! Lift up your head ! 

What 's the good of whining ? 
Lo, the very darkest cloud 

Has a silver lining ! 
Face your fate and do not stand 

Peaking thus and pining; 
Though your gift may not be grand, 
Do what 's nearest to your hand. 
Do it well and truly, and 

You won't think of whining — 
Come, cheer up ! 

[112] 



A ROUND OF RIMES 

Come, cheer up ! Whatever your lot, 

What 's the good of whining ? 
Griefs? Why, every grief you bear 

Is of wise designing. 
Cares? Why, every care is sent 

Tr)dng and refining. 
Then be blithe of heart and strong, 
Labor hard and labor long. 
And amid your smile and song 

Leave no place for whining — 
Come, cheer up ! 



["3 I 



LIQHAHY Ul- CONGRESS 



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